


The Slave from Canaan

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: Joseph: King of Dreams (2000)
Genre: Character Study, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the most humble of beginnings & beyond, there is only one man whom stands behind the young Canaanite & little can he do for the temptation brought unto him where his dreams wander. </p><p>*rating for the last two chapters</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slave from Canaan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reader4books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader4books/gifts).



> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE.
> 
> Finally, after what - good gosh there is over two-hundred hours of editing-time logged on.... XP  
> Here you are, QueenofShire405~
> 
> enjoy~

The sun beat down on Joseph's back, baking his skin a harsh tanned color, mostly due to the fact that he had been kept from the sun nearly all of his life, and had devoted himself to study, no matter how much he wished he were not sold to a couple of slave-traders, he knew in his heart that he would not be accepted back into his home of his loving parents and resentful brothers; all of which brought his attention back to the constant movement of his arms and legs, causing a painful tingling along his parched skin, his tongue felt too thin and dry as he swallowed emptily at the wind and sand pelting mercifully gently against his ankles, his sun-burned eyes wandered along the shifting reds and dull golds of the dunes spread out before him and the men marching him along. Not a single cloud could allow his skin reprieve, his masters dragged him along the aimless path ever-changing and deceptive, his steps difficult the moment he pushes off his foot and forward unto the bright abyss seemingly burning as terribly as his back and shoulders, the tips of his curled brown hair bleaching the more he pushed his head between his shoulders and bowed near the camel's rump, he tread on in his thin straw sandals, the leather straps digging into the tops of his feet and the tips of his toes digging into the grit-like dirt. 

By standards of his parents, Joseph was their child chosen by God, understanding how clearly he saw through his brothers' eyes, Joseph took his first steps as a man the moment his wrists were bound before him, he vividly recalled the fear which stilled his body and froze his heart, a fear in which twisted it's ugly claws upon his mind, seeming as if to possess his soul as he was prodded away from his brothers, his dry throat now sore from calling after them, his eyes sunken for his actions of weeping dry tears. His brothers had stripped him of his life, the slave-trader had given him no alternative as to live his life differently, the ropes which tie his wrists had torn the last of his humanity and humility as he marched behind the loaded caravan, his tunic lay sloppily in ribbons about his waist, he counted his steps until the evening where the sun dipped behind the slithering sea of uninterrupted winding slopes, the gold alas drowning out the red sun as the caravan halted for the night. He was fed only a small partially-full cuplet of water and a handful of stewed barley grain while his captors drank from wine jugs and ate dried meats, the lonely night spread out before him, still untied, Joseph crawled through the cool sand to a small patch of warmth on the side of a laying camel, he knew they would take a rest for only but a while before they would resume their journey to Egypt where his dire fate awaited him, he shivered at the thought and curled tightly against himself, closing his eyes and hoping for a dream which would set him free. 

Too soon was he awoken from the formless dream swirling about behind his eyes, the bright wash of colors disappearing as he had dreamed of six different shackles: the first being a rope, then the second another rope, the third made of iron, the fourth again iron, the fifth were made of gold, the last made of gold yet disconnected of chains or locks, one which he was attached to had splintered into the plant fibers from which they were woven, before finding himself attached to another rope, Joseph felt his body being dragged through the roughness of the sand. Instantaneously, he dragged his tired legs and raw feet beneath himself before hauling himself up, his sagged shoulders enclosing himself as the air licked at his exposed skin, his stiff arms tightening about his upper body and hands enclosing themselves against his thighs, the rough cloths swung teasingly in its warmth about his lower body like the crack of a reed over his skin, adding further to the shame of his mostly-nude body ambling sleepily after the grumpy camel groaning and honking at it's rider. He knew better than to complain, he understood not to ask for more of what was already provided for fear that the slave-traders might just grow tired of all his aches and pains, they may simply forget to feed him or allow him his rest, and like never before, he felt as if his God had abandoned him to suffer simply because he existed, and yet he prayed as he trudged the cold granules set beneath his feet, the sand again sucking down his steps and the wind blowing his footprints away as if to erase him from his own past. 

The winding trail of his predecessors strewn about like grass in the night pulled him further and further to places he had never known except through his father's teachings and scrolls from which he studied, the closer he came, the more his throat constricted, slowly choking him of his breath, the once itchy ropes on his wrists wore away into twin welts of bruised and cut flesh, he grit his teeth and continued on behind his captor and the traveling caravan. Dawn arose on the side of his shoulder, the air becoming thinner and humid, salt brine just the very outside of his lips as he tasted the evasive flavor, suddenly able to stride easier, Joseph breathed a short sigh of relief as he peeked out from beneath his overgrown hair, his eyes becoming adjusted against the glare of a pillar rising on both sides of the brick road on which he tread, the place where he found himself seemed as if to populate itself and breathe with its own life upon the graceful inhabitants. Sights never seen yet only heard of made themselves clear in his presence, Joseph gaped in awe as the camel pulled him along an an easier pace due to the port's congested assemblage of sellers, buyers, locals, outsiders, each having their own niche and language, some which were not at all recognizable to him and still decipherable, thanks to his studies of the local common language. 

Egypt of the Egyptians, the exotics found ranging from fierce wild felines through strange fruit being hauled from boat and rafts again held him in the wondrous rapture, he peeked among the goods until he was again yanked along deeper and deeper into the land cradled by the Nile, completely forgetting his disheveled state, Joseph ventured along unknowingly behind the camel, his binds no longer the subject of his panic, he glanced at the fantastic marvels on display at the Egyptian peoples' leisure: bolts of the finest color-rich silks and the thinnest white linen lay spread for buyers in stalls, strands of clear glass beads and strung colored pottery littered atop tables, cages among cages stacked high of screeching monkeys and infant lemurs, bamboo poles were otherwise swum across the river toward the shops of traders. Whole forests of rich red cherry wood and raw papyrus reeds made dock as he was pulled behind, the people themselves appeared perfectly content and in perfect contempt for Joseph whom did not fit with his full head of curly light brown tangles, his honey-like eyes and burned albeit olive-toned skin, he again curled his arms about himself and tried to gather his tattered cloths against his chest in modesty. He found the city and the Egyptians beautiful, like a settlement of white cranes meandering about the giant pillars propping up the sky, their clothing consisting of thin linens draped about their rich bronzed bodies, thick black hair woven about their heads in tight curls and interwoven beads in its braids, black kohl outlining their eyes just as it highlighted their eyebrows the instant their expression changed once their eyes fell upon him. 

Joseph flinched as his body fell atop a wooden table, a rough hand grasped his chin, roughly turning him side to side, fear ignited within him as a plaque was placed upon his neck, the symbols reading that he was a slave of cheap labor for thirty pieces of silver, he was then unceremoniously shoved between two more robustly-built men whom glowered at him for merely touching them, he shrunk into himself as much as was possible, again enfolding his fingers within his tattered garments still tiredly clinging to his waist, the material just about ready to give up and make him go naked without its protection. The sights no longer enticed him, moreover he was taken by the smells emanating from far off stalls, the scent of honey and roasted meats made his stomach clench painfully, his dry mouth watered for the sake of food which he could not reach without possibly being killed, the shining swords tied at the royal guards' belts were enough to keep him from enacting upon his own stomach's will, he shuffled in place about the bright port blowing a gentle salty breeze at his back and slowly reality melted away as it had always done when daydreaming overcame him, blocking out the world and building a new one about himself. 

He dreamed of honeyed dates and rivers of sweet milk, hearty charcoal-roasted meats and mountainous loaves of fluffy bread, his tongue nearly hung out of his mouth as another rude hand took him by the chin, turning him this way and that, he caught sight of a man larger whom was called Lord Potiphar and older than he, and a commanding voice to match, “He'll do.” 

“Come, Slave,” he was again pulled after by a pair of guards, he yanked at his ties in terror and shame as he was marched along the stone steps, they may have gone long for the noon sun dipped slowly offside to the west, casting half the land of Egypt in shadow and part in golden heat, he dared not speak but still continued to struggle. 

Joseph remembered all too clearly the beatings and starvation which he endured at the hands of his captors, the last thing he wanted was to walk disgracefully in his wind-torn garments while his buyer was dressed in a full tunic and headgear of a person of importance, he was then halted before his buyer whom held a bright red fruit before his hungry gaze, the man known as Potiphar asked, “Will you come of your own volition, slave?” 

His stomach groaned in readiness to snap his spine in half, Joseph bowed in defeat, his will broken as the shameful groaning within his body alerted the men, he clutched his empty abdomen as a disgraceful tear fell, he nodded and whispered dryly, “I have no other choice, honorably sir.” 

“Justly, you have no say,” the man said, handing Joseph the red fruit, he hesitantly stretched out his arms, grasping the round fragrant fruit in his hands as the man continued, “But, every slave has his purpose even while none is no better than the other. Come now.” 

“Thank you-” the warmth shining outwards from the man's eyes struck Joseph, he found himself feeling as if he were a whole instead of a fragment from when the slave-traders had been dragging him around the desert, he was being spoken to like a Man, not of high rank but still full of due respect for his humble status, he again bowed and said as if tasting the strange meaning of the heavy word he was about to speak, “-Master.” 

Though still in binds, Joseph smiled as he bit into the fruit's sweet flesh and continued along after his master Potiphar without a single delay, though he was tired, he still matched his master's footsteps in order to show how thankful he felt for being in his merciful care, he was obliged to keep his word once giving it, and the core of his existence was not only to survive, but to learn and please his master. Sounds of the market faded along with the smells, yet the sensation of fear lingered like a cornered memory, though the place he was brought to was simple, he paused before stepping over the white stones fit tightly against each other beneath his feet, the flair of fright burned through him as his master strode to the top platform and looked him over from where he stood at the bottom of the sleek stairway, regarding Joseph and turning away after giving quick instructions to the guards at Joseph's side. He was then herded into a room offside behind the main house, thrust against the wall as Potiphar's attendant stripped him, gave him a quick, rough scrub and rinse, he barely had a breath before his body was propped up between two attendants, they methodically shaved his entire body save for some of the shorter locks of his hair and wrapped a course linen cloth about his hips, his eyes painted the same feline-like pattern over his lashes and corners of his eyes. Given a pick and hoe, he followed several young men down near the Nile, he was given terse directions and so he toiled beneath the sun in his plain papyrus sandals, bending over his back and slicing weeds at their root with his tool, the young men in similar garb had already worked to their fifth row before Joseph's renewed spirit ignited in rage, his soul becoming the sun on his back and urging his body alive. 

He imagined himself daydreaming thoughts that disturbed even himself, yet on and on he went fantasizing in the daylight hour, his arms heaving and shouldering the weight of his farming tool and the black silt in which he sunk into like mud, he grunted angrily as he swung and tugged through the field of wheat, the task was menial and hardly needed a technique, but he deftly avoided the tangled roots of wheat as he plucked up the offending weeds, unknowingly outworking the young men at his side. They had done all they could, straining themselves to their limit as Joseph easily uprooted water-stealing herbs, successfully working all the way to the end of his allotted rows, alas being stopped by one of his master Potiphar's overseers, he was then directed upon tending the animals, he again bested the slaves alongside himself, efficiently marking healthy animals in groups ranging from stock breeders to those possible for trade. Then being given the title of husbandry foreman, he still worked as hard as the next slave whom fed and herded the animals, further still was he rewarded for his hard labor within a week from sleeping in the slave Quarters and was then transferred into the main house as a simple house slave; if ever there was honor among slaves, Potiphar had found that within Joseph he saw a virtuous regard. He discovered the young man to be very well learned and versed with many useful teachings, yet most of all he was fond of the young slave's seductive innocence, alike those of Pharaoh's foretold beauties, even still being that the young slave was nothing more than a boy of unequal modesty and exqusite purity – he turned away from his lustful thoughts, frowning to himself as he dashed out his mistrustful yearning for the ethereal child he admired from afar. 

Touching meant hushed whispers and words tarnishing his high sanction in Egypt, knowledge of unwanted copulation were grounds enough for his house to be divided and his hence-peaceful marriage ended; if at all he dared to alleviate his viperous desire, he would do so just as his wife had done for ages: by bringing home pretty bodies discreetly from either the market or the temple of Isis. Potiphar had considered committing 'equal-grounds' adultery for a time, yet his public stature was one daunting obstacle none too easily overcome for the simplicity of pleasure, he feared the betrayed eyes of Pharaoh befalling him, scrutinizing his thoughtless actions, and wondering when he would lose the interest of extent and usefulness of Potiphar's aid. Further more, he had moral reasons to Not pursue Joseph, the first being that Joseph was as old as his niece Asenath and She was the last person he wanted to think of while performing acts upon her peer, the second reason was that Joseph was both a slave and a Canaanite – a warring tribe the Egyptians held a tight truce with, the third was moreover for Joseph's benefit of finding a true love to share such acts of lovemaking with. Not once could he look upon his wife and guess her intentions, but catching her standing offside of their home gazing westward toward their farm and fields, he saw instantly where her eyes wandered – upon the form of their new slave bending to the silt-rich earth and tending the crop – Potiphar moved alongside his wife and nodded when they sensed each other's presence. They stood simply breathing the hot air wafting in from the east and swirling through the Nile's cool breeze, being at their advanced age, nothing seemed to surprise them except the feeling of having a consort wedge itself between their peaceful matrimonial lifestyle, the source was an off-limits hand of their house. 

“He is skillful – this new slave. I wonder, Potiphar-” Zuleika purred, her fingers working at the beaded linen hem of her sheath, “-what Other skills does this new slave know?” 

“The boy is well-educated, he knows our language and surprisingly, a fondness for morality and ethics,” Potiphar answered, he avoided the blatant double-play of her words and instead gave his own barb. 

“Hm! Uselessness is the phrase,” she giggled, her ochre smile spreading across her lips as she turned and brushed a finger along her husband's chin, “You will fix that, won't you, husband?” 

Potiphar stiffened once more at her play of words, wondering if admitting his smitten state that she will leave the young slave alone, or that if he answered by spewing venomous words that she would utter no more on the subject – but being her husband for most of his life taught him one thing: Zuleika was not to be simply warned but Demonstrated to about an idea, she continued in her silky tone, “After all, he is a beauty. Why, the stars dim when he glances skyward, the flowers close in his presence, the wind favors him more than our own household slaves, the Nile stills near his feet. Our own god Ra dares not harm his flawless skin nor mar his innocent face! A pity it is that no man, no woman dares approach him for fear that his master may flog the owners' suffering the whims of wandering hands and love-stricken hearts.” 

“A blessing then it shall be told as,” Potiphar mused, brushing a hand thoughtfully over his chin, he watched Joseph directing other slaves of efficient techniques, “He is wise beyond his years yet retains a youthful innocence about him. Do you not see it, Zuleika?” 

Catching sight of Joseph gently helping a seemingly sightless leper through the muddy field, Zuleika chuckled, “He cannot even hide his charm from the blind.” 

“Then it should be also told that if anyone were to corrupt the qualities for which I've spoken of-” Potiphar stood horrified of the growing attraction himself and his own wife held for their young hand, he then coolly spoke for the young man working in his fields, “-they shall learn fully of my position at Pharaoh's side as his merciless sword.” 

“What of your statement if Pharaoh learns of our personal vendetta?” his wife asked, he regarded her slight upturned lips, and found himself nauseated of her presence and her obviously lustful leering upon his trusted slave. 

Two sides within him battled for superiority, one which was impulse and the other was rationality; on one hand, he could risk his reputation and lavish lifestyle on the love of a slave – on the other, he did not wish to risk death to himself, his wife or the object of his affections: Joseph, for the young man was an unknowing bystander of the court's pastime. 

“My woes are Pharaoh's woes,” Potiphar stated, he was well aware of Pharaoh lending aid to loyal subjects in need, and by no fault was his faithfulness to the crown of Egypt a reason for Pharaoh to delay on any such modest requests, he looked straight upon Zuleika to get his point across, “My enemies are Pharaoh's enemies, wife.” 

“Hardly can I believe for one moment that I am under the same stipulations,” she giggled, once seeing his unsmiling face, Zuleika retreated with her two servants and gave one warning in parting, “Recall this very instant when you find myself and another in Our quarters.” 

Once more alone save for a pair of guards and hand servants, Potiphar released a weary breath, as if it were an exhausted gasp which was pulled from the dead, yet he knew in his heart that he would protect the young slave to the extent of his power, the bright smile and knowing eyes were very child-like and maturing gently into a powerful seduction of his will – there was no way he could break the spell of the handsome young Canaanite, and he chose not to for the warmth housed in his soul that was rekindled the moment Joseph called him 'Master'. 

The respect of his title made his heart all the more fond of Joseph.

**Author's Note:**

> this took some major time writing & researching - what with all the references to canon & historical/biblical accuracy - there is Some, not a full retelling because i'm here to write porn, not give everyone a theology lesson (though it's been one of my strong points of study). Joseph was (in the bible) called 'handsome'/beautiful beyond measure' & i thought it worked well here, so i did Some embellishing but not too much to overwhelm some readers.


End file.
